Outpost Under Siege
by CinnamonSynonym
Summary: Corporal Gene Tillman and his squad of marines are sent to investigate a crashed Covenant ship and discover a nightmarish enemy. Can they survive against this enemy long enough to escape back to base, or will they perish in the darkness of the jungle?


**XI Bootis A System**

**Research Outpost Burnridge**

**March 21st, 2528**

**2200 hours**

"Alright gentlemen, listen the hell up!"

Corporal Gene Tillman silently gulped as the general, who was pacing back and forth in front of the squad, paused infront of Gene. Gene was a hard man. He had fought the Covenant and survived through an entire military operation, which was great for him. The part that wasn't so great was the fact that at the end of the operation, Gene had to watch his planet get glassed from a ship as the UNSC fled the system.

Yet despite all he saw, when the general paused by Gene, sweat beaded down his neck and his spine grew an extra vertebrae.

General Carlos Dominique was an imposing man. With short cropped white hair, impeccable boots, hard steel gray eyes, and enough muscle to make him look tougher than a damn ODST, he was the boogieman that most marines feared more than even the spooks at ONI. He was a grueling taskmaster who expected perfect obedience from his troops and was on the verge of abusive. He expected loyalty to such a degree that Gene and the other marines had taken to calling him General Dom when he wasn't around, though it was code for his real nickname, not a shortened version of his proper name. The fact that the man was down here now personally speaking with the platoon was not a laughing matter.

"I've called you all here to a very interesting spot in this facility, gentlemen," the General continued as he glanced at Gene then moved on.

Gene forced himself to show no expression. He had been confused by the order. Ten minutes ago, he had been told to report to the observatory deck ASAP. His confusion had only grown stronger when he found General Dom and the rest of his squad there.

General Dom moved away from the soldiers, his hands cupped behind the small of his back and his ever-present muscles looking ready to burst through his uniform. He paused in front of the observatory's main window, a massive floor to ceiling pane of bullet-proof material that showed a wide panorama of endless jungle. "Now then, marines. I want you to take a damn good look at what's out there." He gestured broadly to the jungle, then turned around again. "What do you think is out there?"

No one responded to the general's question. No one responded to Dom unless he specifically said their name or they wanted their ass handed to them.

Dom shook his head. It seemed staying silent wouldn't help the marines this time. He stepped forward to a marine three down the line from Gene, pulling off his military cap. "Come on, somebody answer me here!" He roared. He moved close to the marine in front of him. "Did you get your tongue cut off, marine! What the hell do you think is out there? Speak!"

"U-uh..." The marine stuttered. "Uh...trees, sir?"

The General shook his head, looking like he was truly restraining himself from decking the marine then and there. "I don't care about the damn trees, private!" He moved to the man next to him. Gene noted nervously that the General was moving in his direction.

Dom looked over the next marine. "Now then, you, what do you think is out there?"

The marine had some time to think of an answer, but he didn't fare any better than the first one. He grinned cheekily, giving off an air of confidence. "Monkeys, sir."

The comment would have elicited chuckles from the squad if it had been another officer, but Dom's barely contained rage finally spewed forth. The General cocked back his fist and punched the marine square in the jaw, sending him sprawling.

He was angrier than usual, Gene noted. The General yelled more often than he spoke, but normally he could keep himself composed even after getting mocked. Only when he was truly angry did he start doing anything drastic. Something must have gone wrong. Whatever had happened, it had made the General furious.

"I don't care about the damn monkeys, either!" Dom shouted. He moved on to the marine next to Gene, grabbing the poor man by the scruff of his uniform. "What is out there?"

"I-I-I don't know, sir!" The man stuttered. As the General brought his arm back, the man quickly added a "marines aren't paid to think, sir!"

The punch came anyway. "No, but you are paid to have some common sense!" Dom shouted. He then moved on to Gene, grabbing him by the uniform and shaking him violently. "You! What. Is. Out. There?"

Gene's thoughts were strangely calm. A year ago, he would have fled in terror from the General before he had gotten his hands on him. But after fighting the Covenant, after seeing his home glassed, he had grown a spine. He may have been nervous in the face of the General, but he wasn't terrified. He was surprised to find himself able to think, able to reason.

"Sir, could it be something we don't know about? Something that doesn't belong in that jungle?" Gene offered.

"And why would you say that?" Dom said, apparently curious.

Gene's thoughts raced. He was on the right track! Now all he had to do was figure out what to say next. "We've never cared about anything in the jungle before. It's a jungle, it's normal. Now, we care about it. We found something abnormal, sir."

Dom frowned slightly and squinted his eyes. Gene silently cursed himself and braced for pain. He had likely shown himself to be too intuitive, and he was going to pay for it. As the man before him had said, marines aren't paid to think, they're paid to shoot. Being too smart sometimes became a bad thing.

However, Dom let go of Gene and moved back towards the front of the room. "Correct. We've found something. Or rather, it found us." He turned around and faced the platoon, his hands cupped behind the small of his back again. "Two days ago at 0200 hours, we detected an unknown object entering the planet's atmosphere that crash landed twelve miles from this facility. Diagnostics has since identified it as a Covenant vessel."

Dom began pacing again. "The vessel had no life signs on it. Assumedly, any Covenant that were onboard died in the crash.

"Two hours after the target crashed, we sent out a squad to run recon and recover whatever they could. The operation went well until the squad made camp within three miles of the target. Last night at 2330, we got a massive spike in radio chatter. Fifteen minutes later, we had lost all contact with the squad."

A few of the men shifted uncomfortably at the speech so far. They knew where this was going. Go see what ugly mother went and killed that squad, then put some bulletholes in it.

"Now then," Dom continued, "most of what we received was total nonsense, but we did get one sound byte that was useful."

The marines waited a few moments, then heard the sounds of battle start to crackle through the speakers in the room. Bullets rang out of the speakers as human shouts and death cries echoed through the din.

A single voice manged to break through the cacophony. "...Not Covenant. I repeat, no Covenant hostiles! It's something different. They're using plasma weapons, but they don't look like any Covie I've seen. We're surrounded on all sides, need immediate back-up, mac blast, anything you can-"

The voice cried out in pain, presumably as he was hit by enemy fire. Then, another voice echoed over the comm. It was alien, deep pitched, and void of emotion.

"Embrace oblivion."

The sound byte ended and the marines shifted in uneasy silence. This wasn't what they had expected. Dom let the silence go on for a few more minutes before starting to talk again. "Now then! Obviously, this is something we've never encountered here before. Your job is to go in and figure out what happened to that squad. Once you do that, figure out what those things out there are and clean them up. If you can, find something salvageable in the wreck, but that's secondary. We're sending out a platoon to handle this mission, but this squad will be spearheading the effort, which is why you get my personal attention.

"That concludes your debriefing, marines. You're to report at the armory in 1200 hours. Go out there and give those alien bastards hell. Now give me an u-rah!"


End file.
